


The Tension Between Us

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mates, Mentioned Kate Argent, Omega Stiles, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Past Abuse, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Relationship(s), Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid





	The Tension Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).



Stiles loved walking through the preserve; loved the sweet smell of the pine trees and the earthy petrichor that filled the air after it rained.

He dug his hands into his jacket pockets, shifting from foot to foot as he watched Scott dig through the blanket of yellow fallen leaves.

He turned, catching a glimpse of a figure among the skeletal trees.

He let out a sharp gasp, his heart lurching in his chest. He leant over and slapped Scott’s shoulder, startling his friend to his feet.

He bowed his head, trying to avoid eye contact as the man stalked towards them.

The man looked to be in his twenties. He had a square jaw that was darkened by stubble. He wore an old black leather jacket. He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair, trying to tame the mess that was tousled by the wind. His pale aventurine eyes were fixed on them, the pale depths shifting from hues of green to brown and blue—mesmerising.

“What are you doing here?” the man demanded. “This is private property.”

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat, his stomach twisting as he glanced from the man to Scott, hoping his friend would talk. He ran his hand over the shirt fuzz of his hair nervously, shifting from one foot to another as he said, “Sorry, man. We didn’t know.”

“We were just… looking for something,” Scott started, his words slow and apprehensive. His eyes were fixed on Derek, a look of suspicion and fear passing over his dark eyes. “But… forget it.”

The man dug something out of his pocket and tossed it to Scott.

Scott caught it, glancing down at his hand as he unfurled his fingers and looked down at the inhaler that sat in his palm.

The man turned his eyes back to Stiles one last time and Stiles felt a rush of warmth roll through him. He drew in shallow breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, but was struck by the smell of fresh apple pies, the pages of a new book, soft musk, and the nostalgic familiarity of worn leather.

The smell was intoxicating. Stiles’ jaw hung wide open, his heart hammering against his chest and his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths as he watched the man turn and leave.

 _Oh shit_ , he thought. _No, no, no._

He turned to Scott. “Dude, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us. His whole family burned to death in that fire nearly ten years ago.”

_And he’s my mate._

 

 

Derek buried his hands back in the pockets of his jacket, glancing back at the teen and his friend one last time before leaving.

He dragged his feet back through the undergrowth, dry carcases of fallen leaves crunching beneath his boots as he made his way back to the charred ruins of his home. He shoved open the door and stepped into the foyer covered in dust and ash.

 _No, no, no,_ he thought. _This can’t be happening. I can’t have a mate._

He looked around at the ruins of his childhood home. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath his feet and the dark shadows made the house feel cold and desolate. The walls were scarred with scorch marks, the wooden doorframes withered and warped.

_I don’t need a mate, I don’t need someone else in his life_

His eyes drifted to a photo that still hung on the wall. The glass was cracked and smeared in ash and grime. Behind it, the photograph had faded, the ink seared off and the edges burnt. But he could still make out the faces; his mum and his dad with little Cora sitting in his mother’s lap, Peter, and Laura.

_Everyone I care about gets hurt._

He bowed his head.

_I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me._

 

 

Warm hands trailed up Stiles’ sides, fingers running across the ridges of his ribs and up his biceps. Strong hands pinned his arms above his head. Soft lips latched onto his throat, gently kissing and sucking at the pale skin. Smooth teeth gently grazed his jugular, nipping at the flesh as they made his way up to his jaw. The warm breath made him shiver as it rolled across his freckled skin. The soft kisses returned, trailing along his jaw and seeking out the scattered moles on his face. He sighed heavily, gasping as their hips ground against each other. He dug his nails into the firm bicep, eliciting a low growl from the man as he buckled his hips in response.

“More,” he gasped.

“Stiles,” a familiar voice groaned. Soft lips latched onto his earlobe, making him hiss and gasp. His hips arched off the mattress only to be thrust back down among the sheets by a firm hand.

Stiles moaned, longing the touch, the warmth. He whimpered a name; the name which caught at the back of his throat as he whimpered but rolled off his tongue with an impatient sensual whine.

“ _Derek_.”

Stiles jerked awake, tossing aside the sheets as he leapt out of his bed.

He quickly looked around.

Yep, his bed. His room. No Derek.

He tried to slow his breathing and ignore the tension in his pants as he glanced at his alarm clock. He grabbed a handful of clothes and darted to the bathroom. He shut the door behind himself and slid the latch into place. He quickly turned the shower on and waited for the cold water to rattle through the pipes.

He stripped off the pair of loose-fitting grey sweatpants that he called his pyjamas and his dad’s old tee-shirt and climbed into the shower, shivering beneath the cold water which tore at his back.

 _I did not just dream about Derek Hale_ , he told himself, feeling his stomach tighten with excitement at the thought of Derek. _I did not dream of Derek. Nope._

“Shit,” he hissed.

He turned the hot water up and evened the temperature out. He stood still for a while, warm water rolling over his skin as he slowly regained his senses.

He quickly washed himself off and got out of the shower. He dressed and walked back into his room. He stuffed his homework and textbooks into his bag and hurried out of his room.

 _Nothing happened. Today is just like any other day._ He sighed. There was no point in lying to himself. _Except I’m an Omega with the hots for Derek Hale… Shit._

 

 

“It’s him, Stiles,” Scott said insistently. “He’s the rogue Alpha. He killed his sister.”

“And tore her body in two, then dumped her in the woods before finding her again and burying her with care?” Stiles finished. “It doesn’t seem right, Scotty. Why would he go to so much trouble wrapping her body in what looked like a child’s blanket and laying her in a grave with flowers?”

“Remorse,” Scott suggested. “Guilt. I don’t know. The guy’s a sociopath.”

Stiles felt his heart sink. He stood among the shadows of the trees, watching as the deputy locked the silver handcuffs around Derek’s wrists. He watched the man’s shoulders sag, the dark shadows that passed in his eyes as he surrendered himself.

The deputy led him over to the patrol car, pulling open the door.

Derek tilted his head slightly, listening. He turned, his eyes finding Stiles’.

Stiles watched as the deputy helped Derek into the back of the patrol car and shut the door. He waited for the deputy to walk away before stepping out of the shadows. He buried his hands in his pockets, ignoring Scott’s protests as he not-so-subtlety walked towards the patrol car.

He pulled the passenger-side door open and slid into the car.

“Okay, just so you know, I don’t care if you’re an Alpha, I’m not afraid of you,” Stiles said.

Derek’s eyes met his, his glare sending an icy chill down Stiles’ spine.

Stiles swallowed hard. “Okay, maybe I am… That’s not the point. I just want to know one thing. That girl, why did you kill her?”

Derek didn’t respond.

Stiles leant against the metal grate that divided them. “I’m trying to help you,” Stiles insisted. “Just tell me, if you did it, why?”

Derek leant forward, his eyes locked on Stiles’. “Stay out of this, before you get hurt.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but his words fell short of his lips.

Someone grabbed the back of his jacket hurling him from the car.

He staggered to his feet, turning to look at the man who had the back of his jacket balled into his fist.

He beamed, trying to act innocent as he said, “Hi, Dad.”

 

 

His father sat at the dining table, files stacked beside him as he flipped open the manila folders and read through the mess of papers.

Stiles pulled out the seat next to him, looking down at the scattered files.

“You okay?” he asked.

His father shook his head.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” the man muttered. “All the pieces fit, but it’s just… not right.”

He sat back in his seat and dragged his hands down his weary face.

Stiles looked down at the files on the desk; Derek’s arrest report, the report from the Hale house fire ten years ago, and another report that was half-buried under the rest. Stiles glanced at it, catching a few stray words: Derek Hale, kidnapping, sexual assault, Kate Argent.

He reached forward and pulled the piece of paper out from under the rest, reading the scrawls of handwriting at the bottom of the page: _Lack of evidence, no witnesses, no further action taken_.

Something else caught his eye, a picture buried under the loose pieces of paper. Stiles fished it out, his heart fluttering as he looked at the photograph: Derek’s mugshot. But something was odd, the flash had caught the man’s eyes glow like a cinematic flare. Bursts of white, blue and green coloured the photo as the glare blurred half of the man’s face.

“Every case has to have a means, motive and opportunity,” his father explained. “He had the means, he had the opportunity, but he had no motive to kill his family.”

“Maybe he didn’t do it,” Stiles suggested.

 _He couldn’t have done it_ , Stiles thought. _There’s no way my mate would me a murdered… right?_

“Did you look into anyone who might want to frame him?” he asked.

“We looked into his history and his family’s and there was nothing we could find,” his father said. “The Hales got along with everyone.”

“They didn’t get along with the Argents,” Stiles pointed out.

“The Argents?” his father repeated back to him.

“I don’t know for sure, but there’s some serious tension between Derek and the Argents,” Stiles said. “Allison’s aunt, Kate—she and Derek have history.”

“How do you know this?” his dad asked.

“Allison said something about it,” Stiles said. He set the photograph back on the table and looked at his dad. “I’m just saying, you’ve been a cop for thirty years, and you’re damn good at your job—”

“Thanks, kiddo,” his dad said, a sweet smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“If it doesn’t feel right, then keep pushing until you find the answers you’re looking for.”

 

 

Stiles let out a deep breath as he pushed open his bedroom door and stepped inside his room, dropping his backpack by the foot of his desk and sitting down in the swivelling desk chair.

“Hey, Stiles,” his father called from downstairs.

“Yeah, D—” He turned around in his seat. His eyes falling on the figure in the corner of his room “Derek.”

Derek’s eyes flew open with anger. He held his finger to his lips and gestured towards the door.

Stiles leapt to his feet, scurrying to the door and pulling it shut as he leant into the hallway and smiled at his dad.

“What did you say?” his dad asked, weary brow furrowed in confusion.

“I said ‘Yeah, Dad?’,” he lied. “What’s up?”

His father brushed it off. “I’ve got something I need to take care of, but I’m going to be there tonight for your first game.”

“My first game,” Stiles repeated back, stumbling over his words. “Yeah, it’s great, awesome, good.”

His father smiled. “I’m very happy for you. And I’m proud of you.”

Me too,” Stiles said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m happy and proud… of myself.”

“They’re really going to let you play, right?” his dad asked.

“Yeah. I’m front line.”

His father’s smile widened. “I’m proud of you.”

He pulled his son into his arms.

“I’ve got to—” he gestured back into his room.

His father nodded. “I’ll see you there.”

“Alright, take it easy,” he called after his dad.

His dad looked back over his shoulder at him, his eyes narrows with suspicion and his brows knitted together in confusion, but he said nothing.

Stiles waited until his father was downstairs before letting out a heavy sigh and stepping back into his room. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, but he reacted one second too late.

Strong arms grabbed him, spinning him around and pinning him back against the door.

Stiles felt his breath catch in his throat as Derek leant in close.

“If you said one word—”

“Like what? ‘Hey, Dad, Derek Hale is in my room. Bring your gun’,” Stiles scoffed, leaving the Alpha lost for words. “Yeah, that’s right. If I’m harbouring your fugitive ass, it’s my house, my rules, buddy.”

Stiles slapped Derek’s shoulder.

Derek looked down at his shoulder, his pale eyes meeting Stiles’ again.

Stiles felt his heart hammer against his ribs, his eyes darting from the mesmerising colour of his eyes to the man’s soft lips.

He swallowed hard against the rising lump in his throat, inhaling the man’s intoxicating musk.

 _I won’t do this_ , Stiles said. _I refuse to play into this._

Derek looked him up and down, the fire in his eyes dying to cinders as he slowly nodded. His grip relaxed slightly as he let go of the jacket balled into his fist. He grabbed the lapels of Stiles’ jacket and tugged at them, straightening out the wrinkled fabric.

Stiles ducked under his arm. He needed to get away from Derek.

“Take that bloody shirt off,” Stiles said, keeping his back to Derek as he sat down at his computer. “There’s probably something in the drawer that’ll fit you.”

He heard the rustle of fabric as Derek shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside.

Before Stiles could stop himself, he glanced over his shoulder, watching as Derek pulled his shirt over his head. He felt his heart stop as he looked at the man’s golden skin, his sculpted abs, and the dark spirals of the triskelion tattoo that sat between his shoulder blades.

“Holy shit,” Stiles muttered to himself, feeling his face flush pink as he turned away from Derek.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, his voice edged with concern.

“Please tell me that this is just some stupid teenage crush and you don’t feel this too?” he pleaded.

Derek didn’t say anything, but his silence answered everything.

“Shit,” Stiles hissed, dragging his hands down his face. “You can’t be my mate.”

“Why?” Derek asked. “Because you think I’m a murderer?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I don’t think you’re a murderer,” Stiles answered honestly. “I think you had no reason to kill the people you love, I’m just trying to find a way to prove that. You can’t be my mate because you’re twenty-four and I’m seventeen; this isn’t right.”

Stiles let out a heavy sigh.

“What do we do?” he asked.

“How am I supposed to know?” Derek countered.

“You’re the Alpha.”

“I’m an Alpha who lost my parents when I was fourteen,” Derek corrected. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I guess that makes two of us.”

Derek let out a heavy sigh, sinking down onto the edge of Stiles’ bed. He rested his elbows against his knees and hung his head in his hands.

“It’s not like we can deny this,” he said. “But I can’t… I won’t…”

 _Kate_ , Stiles thought, piecing it together. _He won’t because of Kate, because of what she did to him._

Derek drew in a deep breath.

“Everyone around me get hurt.” Derek bowed his head. “I can’t put you in danger.”

“I can take care of myself,” Stiles said.

“I know. I just—”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to your family,” Stiles said. “What Kate did to you is not your fault. The fire wasn’t your fault. Laura’s death wasn’t your fault. It’s not your fault that people get hurt.”

Derek kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Let’s agree to not make any decisions until I’m eighteen,” Stiles said, turning to look at Derek. “Until then, you’re just an Alpha, and I’m just an Omega.”

Derek nodded.

 

 

By the time Stiles’ eighteenth birthday came, he had made his choice.

He and Derek had been through so much, and as much as they tried to deny their bond, they knew they had each other’s backs.

Derek fought his uncle, turned his back on a kanima, faced off against a pack of Alphas, and protected Stiles time and time again. And Stiles did the same; he saved Derek from wolfsbane-laced bullets and from drowning in the high school pool, he had been the one to clear Derek’s name, and he had been the one that Derek let close enough to comfort him as the Alpha knelt over Boyd’s unmoving body.

Stiles hated to admit it, but he needed Derek in his life.

The thought of having a mate still terrified him, but he had made his choice.

He made his way out onto the reserve, standing among the trees and inhaling he rich, earthy scent. He felt it wash over him, calming his racing heart. He watched as the patches of daylight broke through the foliage overhead and danced across the forest floor.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, a different smell reaching his nose; the smell of freshly baked apple pies, the pages of a new book, soft musk, and the nostalgic familiarity of worn leather.

He couldn’t help but smile as he turned to see Derek walking towards him.

“Happy birthday,” Derek said as he made his way through the labyrinth of trees.

“Thanks,” Stiles said. “I’ve made a decision, and I’m hoping that you feel the same way.”

Derek sopped beside him, his pale eyes watching Stiles intently.

“I want to be your mate,” Stiles said. “Everything that’s happened over the past year made me realise that I need you in my life… I can’t live without you in my life.”

A look of relief washed over Derek, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile. “I can’t live without you either.”


End file.
